I never wanted to write for money. I think about it now, though, because it seems to mediate so much of what one can ‘readily’ do in one’s life… more specifically, to eat healthily.
I don’t have anything against people selling their creative work for whatever reasons they wish. It’s your creation, you can do whatever you want with it. Perhaps what I think about most, when I think about myself doing it, is: will it be worth your time reading?
I recall the movies that I’ve seen, the books that I’ve bought and are loathe to sell because I love them so… and I don’t regret having exchanged my money for them.
I’ve had a really volatile relationship with the concept of money, can’t you tell? To me, it’s so inextricably related to guilt. owing, repaying, letting people down. And good things too, like gift giving, prosperity and other healthy things.
Thinking about it, the issue really isn’t ‘money’, per-se. It’s more of the periodic fugue states I have where I don’t think past the next day because of my [typically depressed] emotional state, and I live beyond my means. (Well, maybe not really; those episodes have been pared down quite considerably.) No, it’s the moments where I try new things so as to achieve some sort of financial independence only to crash and burn – and it’s in those moments where I feel all shitty and go into those fugue states. ugh.
lately I’ve been feeling like I don’t deserve happiness. then I remember that grace exists…